


Connected By a Phone

by FFlove190



Series: Rare Pair Week 2019 [1]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, long distance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 04:18:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17821763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FFlove190/pseuds/FFlove190
Summary: Being in SOLDIER means being long distance sometimes. Angeal and Kunsel make due.





	Connected By a Phone

**Author's Note:**

> Rare Pair Week Day 1: Date / Long distance
> 
> Unbeta;d

To: Angeal   
From: Kunsel  
Status: sent  
Subject: _ Apples _   
_ ‘Good luck on your meeting today. Try not to chew out the politicians too much, they don’t know any better. There’s a shipment of Banora Whites that the exec cafeteria just got in: you can chew on that instead. Probably will be better for your health, too.’ _

 

Dating Kunsel long distance was a lot like dating him in person. Everyday came with at least one email. They ranged from enlightening observations, to a roundabout suggestions, to thoughtful questions about the state of the world.

 

It made Angeal forget - for just a little bit - that one of them was halfway around the world putting their life on the line. If Angeal was on a mission, it reminded him that someone was waiting for him, keeping the lights on and making sure he had a place to return to. When Kunsel was out, it felt like he’d never really left at all. 

 

Angeal started the arduous process of typing out a response even as he extended his route to the cafeteria.

 

Angeal hated sending mails: it was tedious and he made more mistakes than he’d care to admit. PHS simply weren’t designed for hands as large as his. He was more of phone call guy: give him a number to dial and he was golden. But most of Shinra’s operations ran on the tiny things buttons so here Angeal was, apple in one hand and phone in the other, about to back up Lazard in a board meeting he was loathe to attend. 

 

To: Kunsel  
From: Angeal  
Status: sent  
Subject: _Stay Safe  
‘I always play nice. Apple or no. Behemoths sighted in your area. Stay sharp.’_

 

[...]

 

To: Angeal  
From: Kunsel   
Status: sent  
Subject: _Not behemoths  
‘Hate to say it, your warning came a little late; they must have heard me typing about apples. To be fair, things aren’t exactly behemoths, but close enough. There’s more detail is in the report if you still need something to read. I’m glad you’re eating well, I hope that apple was as delicious as they sound. What do you think about talking to Lazard to get some more fruits into standard rations? I know the paste has everything we need but it’s nice to have some texture once in a while.’ _

 

Kunsel had this habit that tended to drive Angeal up the wall. All of Kunsel’s emails were safe; they were wholly innocent if anyone were to look over Angeal’s shoulder. They might wonder  _ why _ a SOLDIER who wasn’t Angeal’s direct was messaging him while on a mission, but they’d just shrug their shoulders and move on. It was doubly infuriating because all the people who might be looking over his shoulder already  _ knew _ about them. 

 

For how much Kunsel said, the careful things he left unsaid blared to the front in Angeal’s mind. 

 

Kunsel never talked about himself: if he was injured, if he was in a tight spot, if he needed help. Whenever he mentioned his own emotions they were flippant asides, like they were intended to be a butt of a joke (“I thought I was going to die.”) or use as evidence to reinforce some vague statement Kunsel was making (“Loveless was a good play. I cried”). 

 

It was all surface level stuff - nothing deeper, none of the things Angeal wanted and needed when worries kept him up at night. 

 

It was easier, of course, when  _ Angeal _ was on the missions. Missions focused his head, cleared his mind, and made things easy. Every mail from Kunsel felt like a gift. 

 

But when Kunsel went on missions and Angeal happened to be landlocked at HQ? Every mail felt like an opportunity missed: a phone call they could have shared, a kiss that might have been, or an ‘I love you’ that could have been typed at the end. 

 

Worse: Kunsel was Sephiroth’s subordinate. The missions he went on were extended, high clearance, and a true test of mettle. It wasn’t like Angeal could do anything about it. Kunsel had opted out of Genesis’s command already (Genesis’s spent hours with Lazard picking missions that would get his men (and himself) the most glory; Kunsel hated public scrutiny). And while Angeal’s subordinates had the highest churn of odds and ends missions that perfectly suited Kunsel’s skillset, Angeal couldn’t handle being a direct for his boyfriend. 

 

It had been the subject of an argument once already. Of course they’d come to an agreement, shared make up kisses, and generally dealt with the separation required by the ir line of work.

 

Most of the time it was fine.

 

But when the missions mandated a Turk, already had one death, unexplained monsters, and more resistance than expected? Angeal wanted a damn word that Kunsel was still in one piece, not having to scroll through status reports, just wanted an acknowledgement that he wasn’t as hurt as the facts said.

 

It was like Angeal’s worry wasn’t worth a couple of extra thumb presses! Wasn’t worth an extra phone call to reassure him!

 

Any words Angeal could say in response to Kunsel’s mails felt equally glib. He was worried, anxious, and he couldn’t put it out of his mind. 

 

But Angeal sat heavily on the edge of his bed, waiting for a mail that would be as shallow as an encyclopedia, he knew that he wouldn’t get the response he wanted. 

 

Angeal fisted his hair. The only light was from his PHS. But even the screen went dark; it was tired of waiting, too. 

 

To: Kunsel  
From: Angeal  
Status: sent  
Subject: _Keep Staying Safe  
‘Glad you’re still in one piece. Keep me in the loop. If you ever need back-up, you know my number.’ _

 

[...]

 

To: Angeal  
From: Kunsel  
Status: sent  
Subject: _Call?  
‘If you’re not busy, I’d like to call. It’s not urgent or a request for backup so don’t worry. I’ll ring you in 15. If I miss you we’ll be stationary for a few more hours so catch me when you can.’_

 

Kunsel didn’t know how to spice up the mail any more than that. Angeal would know what it meant; he should be up at this hour. 

 

It was difficult to time things, difficult to figure out  _ when _ he should say what. Missions like this - long and hard ones that involved playing nice with Turks and sneaking into places he’d never go without backup - made it especially hard. 

 

Angeal was the kind of man who needed more words than Kunsel was willing to give in Shinra messaging. Angeal needed love, affection, assurance: detailed knowledge about the nature of Kunsel’s wounds, a reminder that Kunsel still thought of him and cared for him… all of these blunt words that were hard for Kunsel to say at the best of times, worse to write out.

 

But whispers were something Kunsel could handle. 

 

So he sat in the quiet corner of the camp they’d set up - an abandoned house that didn’t keep the cold out for a damn -, made sure no one was watching - the Turks always were -, and called the man he loved.

 

Angeal picked up on the fifth ring. 

 

“Hewley here.” Angeal’s voice was stern; Kunsel loved the way it resonated in his bones, the way it eased the knots in his shoulders. 

 

“Angeal. It’s Kunsel.” Kunsel smiled into the phone. 

 

“Kunsel.” Angeal breathed his name with relief. Angeal really needed to get in the habit of checking his caller ID before he picked up. “I saw your mail, but…” 

 

Kunsel closed his eyes and imagined Angeal’s face. Angeal’s magnificent brow would be turned up, and he would be running a hand across his cheek and then his hair like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. Angeal was adorable when he wasn’t sure what to do with himself (it was more often than Angeal liked, but a lot less than he thought).

 

“It’s not as bad as you think.” Kunsel promised. Angeal had vivid pictures of the ways in which everything went wrong: he could write thrillers with that kind of imagination. “It’s been more than we planned for, but we can handle it.” 

 

Angeal let out a whoosh of breath. He always stared at a point on the ground when he did that: like the earth held all the answers to his worries. Maybe it did. 

 

“And you?” Angeal asked gently. The words were the touch of Angeal’s hand on Kunsel’s own: safe, promising, and made his heart melt all over. Kunsel fisted his pants trying to pretend he was holding onto warm, calloused fingers. 

 

“Alive. And I’ll be better after a good sleep.” All true. Nothing but a few scrapes and bruises, a deep unease he couldn’t do anything about, and the knowledge that this mission - like a lot of others - would haunt him for a long time. 

 

Angeal was quiet for a long minute. “Good.” 

 

There was a lot Kunsel knew he wasn’t asking, things that would be insulting to ask: can you afford to sleep, is your location defendable, do you have an estimate until mission completion? Angeal was a worry wart. 

 

It was nice to have someone worrying over you sometimes.

 

“Turks think we’re on the right track. We might be able to wrap this up, soon.” If they got lucky. But maybe unlucky was a better term: they hadn’t been prepared for the army of behemoth mutations. 

 

“Stay safe.” Angeal whispered. 

 

“You got it.” Kunsel said it lightly, trying to keep the emotions from clouding his judgement. Kunsel loved Angeal. But that love, that worry, that desire to  _ be _ with Angeal would cloud Kunsel’s judgment. He couldn’t afford to get distracted until this mission was over. 

 

“Kunsel,” Angeal’s voice was soothing now, an echo of how he whispered in the bedroom as they fell asleep together. “I love you.” 

 

Kunsel savored the words, took them with the knowledge that every time they were said it might be the last, and locked them deep in his heart. 

 

“I love you, too.” 

 

Kunsel ended the call. 

 

[...]

To: Kunsel  
From: Angeal  
Status: sent  
Subject: <Untitled>  
_ ‘What’s your status?’ _

 

Dating Kunsel long distance was a lot like dating him in person: when Kunsel didn’t send any mail at all something was wrong. 

 

It could have just been that they lost signal in the expansive underground lab that the reports had mentioned. Or Kunsel’s phone might have been damaged or lost in a battle. Both were possible. But considering the last status updates coupled with the knowledge that the team had been silent for two days… it didn’t look good.

 

Angeal was practically vibrating with worry - even  _ Zack  _ had noticed. 

 

They were sending an extraction team: Angeal wasn’t above begging to be put on the mission. Lazard had been surprised. Sure Lazard didn’t make a habit of getting involved in his subordinates personal affairs, but it was like Lazard had forgotten about that awkward conversation a few months ago and the disclosure form they’d submitted. 

 

Angeal decided then and there that he and Kunsel had been far too discreet. The next time he saw Kunsel he was going to kiss him senseless. 

 

[...]

 

To: Angeal  
From: Kunsel  
Status: undelivered  
Subject: _ Miss you  
‘When I get out of this, can you make one of those dumb apple pies you’re so proud of? You look really cute when you make them, and they smell so  _ right  _ you know? Like I was always meant to sit there by your side and smell them. I’d never eaten a dumb apple before I met you, you know that right? I probably told you already. You probably won’t get this. But it’s worth a shot, right?’ _

 

Kunsel had given up trying to reach HQ. Something in the labs was mucking with their reception. If the bigshots weren’t already sending backup, well soon none of them would be worrying about anything. 

 

The team had split up - the Turk and a few infantry gunning after the scientist behind this mess. While Kunsel had the rest of the infantry against the mutation that was doing it’s damndest to eat them alive. 

 

Like a gaggle of idiots, Kunsel and his infantry were crowded under the same boulder. It had come crashing down when the monster had been released from its stasis. So far it was the only bit of cover that withstood a hit. Kunsel didn’t expect that to last much longer. 

 

Kunsel eyed the monster, peeking out from cover as much as he dared. The thing had multiple heads, too many teeth, and too many eyes. Kunsel hated that his suspicions about the industrial height ceilings had been totally on point.The satisfaction didn’t help in this predicament at all.

 

A few strategies floated in his mind. Kunsel didn’t like to have his back to the wall, didn’t like the sense of dread that was deep in his stomach. It was something that happened from time to time in his line of work. And sometimes you had to do what you had to do in order to stay alive. And that was what Kunsel was going to do.

 

Kunsel had someone to get back to, he wasn’t going to die here.

Kunsel signed out the plan to the troopers, who nodded grimly. It was a stupid plan, the kind of thing Zack would think up, but it was all Kunsel had. Kunsel took point, sword out, and ready to take the thing by it’s teeth, when it happened. 

 

Something dropped from the ceiling, too quick to see. The monster reared one of it’s heads to attack it, but the stupid thing missed. Then there was the sound of flesh slicing open - Kunsel had never been so glad to hear it. It didn’t take much more than a few good swipes for the thing to go done. 

 

Kunsel nearly laughed with relief when he saw their savior. 

 

Angeal Hewley stood atop the monster. In a pose fitting for statues, the commander looked down at them: his frown was severe, his legendary blade coated in gore, and his eyes sparkling. 

 

“I thought I’d never find you. All accounted for?” Angeal said it with one of those smiles: all relief, radiant, and absolutely kissable. 

 

“All accounted for. We have injured.” Kunsel replied. 

 

Angeal hopped down and slung the Buster onto his back. Angeal used the sword so rarely that Kunsel could help but feel a warmth bubble in his chest all over. Kunsel knew of only three recorded instances that Angeal used his blade - this was the first time Kunsel seen it himself. It was a statement, clear and easy: Kunsel was worth more than Angeal’s sword. 

 

Kunsel’s own sword tipped towards the ground as he watched his boyfriend come closer. He was like a painting in motion when he was on the field; thank god they didn’t have missions together. 

 

“That’s better than I was expecting.” Angeal said amicably. His gaze drifted back across the troopers and then returned to Kunsel. 

 

Angeal stood in front of Kunsel then: a head taller, splattered with monster gore, and looking as handsome as ever. There were still hostiles lurking around, they still had to regroup with the Turk team and retreat. But, for now, everything was perfect. Because Angeal was  _ here _ . 

 

Then Angeal huffed a laugh, shook his head, and moved. 

 

Angeal proceeded to grab Kunsel by the turtleneck and pull him into a kiss. Angeal’s other hand came around his back and pulled him flush. It didn’t take long for Kunsel to become an unthinking mess. It was a feat in and of itself: Kunsel thought too much. Hell, he couldn’t even remember if he was holding his sword anymore. Angeal always undid him.

 

They had an audience, the monster’s lifeblood was still making a mess on the floor just behind them, they were a man down and Angeal had fresh supplies and probably a chopper. By all accounts they should be moving instead of standing here and making out like teenagers. But, well, Kunsel couldn’t stop. He really didn’t give a damn anymore. 

 

When Angeal pulled away, eyes sparkling and grinning like an idiot, Kunsel coughed. 

 

“You could have at least wiped your face.” Kunsel deadpanned. 

 

Angeal shrugged. Not a lot of people got to see just how much of a little shit Angeal was. Honestly Kunsel was surprised Angeal hadn’t done this sooner. 

 

“Alright team, gather the injured and move out.” 

 

With that Angeal escorted them out; Kunsel abreast and the troopers falling in line behind them. 

 

“I was thinking,” Angeal said it as his eyes sweeped the area, . “That I should start leaving you obnoxious voice messages instead of mailing you back.” Kunsel was trying to focus on the smell of the environment: burning ozone and chemicals. Angeal smelled like haste magic and bad decisions - the combination was more than a little distracting. “My thumbs can never keep up with my brain when it comes to you.”

 

“If you start doing it, I might get used to it.” The prospect of having proper voice recordings of Angeal was too good of an offer to ignore. Angeal’s voice always soothed him, even at the worst of times. If someone who shouldn’t stumbled on them, well, Angeal would probably get a kick out of it. 

 

“Then I’ll  _ have _ to start doing it.” 

 

And it was a promise he kept. 

 

[...]

 

Dating Angeal long distance was a lot like dating him in person. Once a day there was a voicemail. On the whole it was inane, sometimes ponderous meandering thoughts, sometimes full of promises that they’d eagerly check, and sometimes a lecture. It always,  _ always _ , ended with an “I love you.”

 

Kunsel started signing his mails with ‘ _ I love you, too. _ ’


End file.
